


Semantics

by pseudocitrus



Series: Teacher/Student Human AU [5]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Human AU, Shoujo Cheesefest, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touka hates her new literature teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this a while ago on tumblr and totally forgot to put it here;;;
> 
> …to be honest, this is basically just filler around the fics “Vocabularies,” “Voltas,” and “Meioses.” cheesy filler. i blushed when writing it and blushed even harder when editing it, more than when writing the most lurid of smutfics (which this, to reiterate, is not). and yet. here we are.
> 
> hope you're having a good day :)

_I hate him._

She’s startled by the suddenness of the thought, and how naturally it occurs to her.

 _I hate him,_ she repeats to herself, with a sort of awe. She didn’t think she was capable of an emotion this powerful. Her head is throbbing. She feels like she’s about to explode.

_I hate him. More than anyone. More than anything. I hate him._

_I hate him._

:::

It starts the first morning that she is excited to attend Literature. Their teacher had gotten ill, or quit, or something; the point was, they were gone, probably for the rest of the year, and Touka is ecstatic.

_No more tests! No more exams!_

Which means it isn’t too important for her to make it to class on time, either. She wakes up, changes into her uniform, and goes downstairs to take her time making herself coffee in the cafe. As she walks she sips it slowly, finishing it at her leisure outside the school gate. Once she’s done, she climbs over and ambles in, feeling warm and pleasant and good. Everything is going to be great. Everything is going to be —

“You’re late, Kirishima-san.”

Touka winces and turns back. She’d been hoping to race past Principal Arima’s office without catching his attention; but now his office door is open, and he’s leaning out of it.

“Not by that much,” she replies, weakly.

“By six minute and a half minutes,” he replies, without checking a clock.

Touka suppresses a sigh and dips into a bow.

“I’m very, very sorry,” Touka she says, not quite managing to make her voice have more than one tone. She straightens.

“Well, I’m off to class, excuse me,” she announces, and she flees, before Arima can call out a punishment. She races, glancing behind her to make sure he’s not following, and that’s why she crashes full-on into someone else.

_“Oof!”_

_“Ooww!”_

Her knees and palms scrape across the floor. Papers flutter; books thunk and slide.

“Please excuse me!” Touka gasps. She looks up at who she hit, and blinks.

Glasses — whitish hair — and young, compared to their other teachers. In other words, it’s no one she recognizes.

Maybe they’re…some kind of official? Touka bends down and begins to gather the paper into messy stacks.

“It’s — it’s alright,” the person says, “please don’t worry about it,” but Touka shakes her head.

“Are — um — _you_ alright?” they ask, once everything’s gathered, and Touka says, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

They smile. “Thank goodness.”

Everything’s gathered; both of them stand. Touka bows again, and continues to class, this time at a walk, since that person is here watching her. She waits for him to go off in some different direction, but he makes all the same turns she does. She gets to her classroom door, and as she stops, they do as well.

“Oh,” they say, and then laugh a little. “It seems that even though we lack punctuality, we have the same period.”

Touka stares. “Um…what?”

“Oh, well, it’s just, because a period is a type of…” They cough. “Nevermind. Let’s just go in.”

They gesture that she should enter first, and she does. The room’s chatter quiets.

“I’m very sorry to be late, everyone,” the person announces, setting their things at the desk at the front of the room. Touka takes her seat, in disbelief, as they continue.

“My name is Sasaki Haise. I’ll be your Literature teacher for the rest of the year, and I’m very pleased to meet you all.” He looks around, as if waiting for some response, and when the students do nothing more than stare at him and exchange glances, he clears his throat.

“Well, then…without further ado, let’s get started.” :::

Sasaki-sensei’s idea of “getting started” turns out to involve distributing an exam.

“B-but we haven’t even _learned_ anything from you,” Touka protests as he hands her his, and he smiles at her, reassuringly.

“It’s alright. It’s just an assessment test, to see where you’re at.”

Touka looks down at the paper, feeling ill. There are a lot of complicated questions about storyline summaries and concepts like whatever the hell a connotation is. There are characters written that she’s not sure of at all.

 _I don’t know any of this._ Her stomach is churning. She pencils out her name, very slowly.

Part of the paper is scuffed up a bit. She rubs at it, and then realizes. These are the same papers that she helped him pick off the floor earlier.

 _Fuck._ If only she’d known. She would have torn them all in half when she had the chance.

Sasaki-sensei lets everyone leave early to take a break once they’re finished. A couple students head out after a handful of minutes; the rest begin trickling out steadily.

 _Help,_ Touka begs silently as Yoriko stands, and Yoriko mouths _Sorry_ as slides her test onto Sasaki-sensei’s desk and exits.

Soon, Touka is the only one left. She hasn’t even managed to read through parts of the first page. She pretends not to notice Sasaki-sensei watching her, and when the class bell rings, she stands stiffly, and strides, and smacks the paper onto his desk. She returns to her own desk before he can say a word just as people begin returning to the classroom. :::

There’s no chance to talk until lunch. She and Yoriko’s favorite spot to eat at is a shaded bench against the back of the building; once they reach it, Touka drops down, and continues seething.

“I can’t believe it! An exam! On _the first day_?”

“Yeah, it, um, was pretty unexpected…”

“It was _definitely_ unexpected! Who does he think he is? He hasn’t even taught us anything and he’s already testing us?!”

Yoriko hands her one of the two lunch boxes that she’s been holding on her lap. It’s clearly meant to distract Touka, and it doesn’t work.

“What did everyone else think?” Touka asks. “Did you overhear anyone else talking about him? Didn’t they think that testing us this soon is fucking ridiculous too?”

“Yeah!” Yoriko says. “Yeah, they thought it was kind of weird. Um, though, to be honest, everyone’s mostly talking about…”

She trails off. Touka nudges her shoulder.

“About what? Yoriko! About what?”

“Well,” Yoriko says, rubbing her cheeks, “about how…good-looking he is.”

Touka blinks. “You’re joking, right?”

Yoriko is flushing. “You don’t think he’s attractive? For a teacher?”

“ _No!_ Not at all! Even if he was, doesn’t personality count for anything?”

“But that’s the thing,” Yoriko says. “He’s really nice too. He let us all out to have a break today. And some of the upperclassman have been talking about how during second period, Yonebayashi-senpai was almost falling asleep, and instead of yelling at her, he told her to go take a nap in the infirmary so she could be awake for her other classes. Not to mention that he didn’t cite you at all for being late today.”

“I should have cited _him_ for being late,” Touka mutters. “He’s the teacher, after all.”

Yoriko looks down. Seeing it, Touka sighs and makes a smile and opens up her lunchbox.

“Nevermind. Maybe it’s just a bad first impression,” she says. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. I just want to enjoy this beautiful lunch you made in peace.”

Yoriko smiles. “It’s all your favorites,” she says, shyly, and begins pointing and describing them all. There’s even a little bunny formed out of rice and delicately-cut seaweed, and Touka eats this first, beheading it and chewing with satisfaction.

“I know how nervous you get about tests,” Yoriko says. “But I’m sure you did fine.” :::

“You’ve failed all the tests in the past two weeks, Kirishima-san.”

Touka’s lips purse. Her fists clench at her sides. She says nothing, and Sasaki-sensei scratches his head. The rest of the class is gone; he’d asked her to stay back, and now she’s just standing here, listening to him remind her of how stupid she is.

“I know this is…kind of an uncomfortable situation,” he says. “But…I’m here to help you. Is there anything you want to tell me? Maybe any special conditions you have? Or — or something in particular that you don’t understand?”

“Something I don’t understand? Sure.” Touka glares. “For one thing, Sensei, I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with exams in the first place. Maybe I wouldn’t be failing them if you didn’t give them out at all.”

Her voice is dripping with venom, but Sasaki-sensei seems unfazed.

“As far as I know, you’re the only one struggling with these tests this much,” he tells her. “I could try and change them, but I think they’re helping everyone else. I’ve been speaking a bit with Ari — um, I mean, Principal Arima — and it seems that you’ve always had some trouble with Literature. Is that right?”

She raises her arms and crosses them, hard. It takes her a while to strengthen her throat enough to speak. When she finally does, her voice is still softer than she’d like.

“Are you going to hold me back?”

If she couldn’t graduate with Yoriko — and attend Kamii with her, like they planned —

“What? No. _No,_ ” he says, firmly. “Well, I don’t want to. But — to be honest, it’s looking pretty bad for you. So I was thinking that maybe you and I should have a couple tutoring sessions. To help you catch up.”

Touka frowns. “Tutoring? You mean, after school?”

“Yes. Just for an hour or so.”

“I can’t do that. I have work.”

Sasaki-sensei grimaces. “I’m really trying to help you, Kirishima-san. It can be just until your grades improve. I don’t want to recommend that you be held back, but if things don’t improve soon —”

“Fine! Fine. Alright. I’ll do it.” Touka looks away. Hopefully Nii-san won’t be too upset.

“Great!” Sasaki-sensei says brightly. “Great. Let’s start tomorrow.” He rummages through his bag, and he pulls something out, and hands it to her.

“This is one of last year’s required texts,” he tells her. “Based on your answers on my first assessment test, I’m pretty sure you haven’t read it. Or, well, maybe you just totally forgot it. In any case, why don’t you try reading as much as you can tonight, and we can discuss it tomorrow?”

“Alright,” Touka mumbles. More work. Great. At home, she looks down at the book, and steels herself.

“What’s that?” Ayato asks, peering over her shoulder.

“A book.”

“A _book_?” He snorts. “Where did you get it from?”

“It’s for school.”

Touka opens the book and both of them frown at the tiny lettering.

“Looks annoying,” he remarks.

Touka’s response is a mutter. “Not as annoying as the teacher that assigned it.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sasaki-sensei straightens when she opens the door to the classroom and enters.

“You’re late,” he remarks.

Touka doesn’t meet his gaze; she just sits down across the table from him, heavily. Sasaki-sensei sips from a mug of watery-looking coffee when she doesn’t say anything, and then clears his throat.

“Well…well, I guess it’s okay for today. So…how far did you get in the book?”

Her skull and chest are starting to feel tight again, the same way that they had when she had tried to read the night before and instead felt like she had to chase the characters as they swam across the page.

 _I hate him,_ she thinks, desperately.

“I didn’t…get…far,” Touka replies finally, quietly.

“Oh? That’s alright. About how many pages, do you think?”

She squirms in her seat. “Maybe…um…the first couple?”

“Great!” Sasaki-sensei exclaims. “Good work. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Touka takes the book out of her bag and puts it on the desk. She smoothes her hand over the first page. And then does it again.

“Sensei,” she says weakly. “I want to switch books.”

“What? Why?”

“This one is really difficult,” she mumbles. “I don’t know any of the characters and it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Which characters didn’t you know?”

“Aren’t you listening to me?” Touka snaps. “ _All_ of them.”

Now is the part where teachers sigh. The part where they furrow their brows with disbelief, and disdain.

 _“You can’t read this?”_ her previous teacher had asked. _“How are you even in this year?”_

Touka steels herself and dares a glance at him.

“That’s okay,” Sasaki-sensei tells her with a smile. “If you don’t know any of them, then let’s go over each one.”

:::

It takes up a little more than the whole hour allotted to go over every character in the chapter, and in the next chapter too. Together, they circle everything she doesn’t know, and she writes out the readings and new vocabularies slowly as he explains them. He doesn’t mock, and once she feels brave enough, she ventures questions. Nothing she asks gets him to admit that she’s a total idiot.

At the end, Sasaki-sensei asks, “Do you want to meet again the day after tomorrow?”

Touka’s lips purse. That’s so soon.

“You’ll make much better progress,” Sasaki-sensei points out, and Touka forces the syllables through her teeth.

“Okay.”

:::

There’s so much work. For the next week she she labors in a corner table of the cafe, going at it until Ayato turns the sign on the door to the side that reads “CLOSED.” He makes her coffee and remarks on the volume of assignments she has and listens, maybe out of a dark enjoyment, as she complains about it all, and about the teacher too.

The next tutoring session is the same — pointing, reciting, memorizing. But the one after that is different.

“How do you think the protagonist is developing?“ Sasaki-sensei asks, and Touka’s hand tightens around her pencil.

“I don’t know,” she says slowly, and Sasaki-sensei scratches his head.

“Haha, um, don’t worry, Touka-chan. There’s no right or wrong answer, really. What do you think, personally?”

“I really don’t know,” Touka protests. She thinks, and then begins paging through the book hastily. Maybe it’s written out somewhere — but no, Sasaki-sensei is tapping her sleeve now, indicating she should stop.

“If you’re looking for a place where the protagonist’s feelings are written explicitly, you probably won’t find it in this particular book. But, you should be able to interpret something from the subtext.”

“The subtext?”

“Yes. For example, after the first major plot point, look at what happens when the protagonist encounters food. It’s always described as cold, or slimy, or rotten — generally unpleasant. So, what might that mean?”

“That they really hate food?” Touka tries. Sasaki-sensei opens his mouth, and then closes it.

“Well,” he says. “Sure. That’s one interpretation.”

Touka scowls. “The wrong interpretation.”

“No,” he says. “It’s not wrong. It’s shallow, maybe, but that doesn’t mean you’re incorrect. You could go a little deeper — but then, that’s true about any interpretation anyone could make.”

Sasaki-sensei is such a pushover. Or maybe just a huge liar. What else could it be other than hatred? The day that she finishes the book, she stares out the window, chin planted firmly in her palm. If not hatred, then what? Simple dislike? Anger?

“Maybe fear?” she wonders, and Sensei just gives her that smile of his again, and Touka buries her head in her arms.

“I’m still wrong,” she groans, and he laughs, lightly.

“It’s not that. I’m just pleased you’re thinking about it. Come on, Touka-chan, sit up, sit up.” Once she does, she sees that he has three books set out in front of her.

“Which one do you want to read next?“

Touka blinks. Now that she’d finished the book, she’d assumed the sessions would be finished. And yet…

She unfolds her arm and points at the book in the center.

“Great choice,” Sasaki-sensei says. “That one’s by my favorite author — her most recent work. No one else I know has read it, so it should be fun to have some fresh discussion about it.”

:::

Maybe…

Maybe Literature…isn’t so bad. It’s not like she’s up to anything on most afternoons anyway, and the cafe is usually slow at this time. Sitting with Sasaki-sensei and eating her way steadily through his book collection isn’t the most awful thing in the world. After a while, she finds that she doesn’t even need to put much effort into it; once she gets better at reading in general, they can focus on the content, which is something Sasaki-sensei can go on forever about. One time she secretly times him by keeping an eye on the clock on the wall behind him and is convinced he somehow managed to go on for fifteen minutes straight without inhaling.

No matter how long he talks, sooner or later, he always asks her to pitch in — but even this isn’t as hard as it used to be. Suddenly symbols and motifs reach out to her as she reads; patterns rise and wrap themselves around her. And Sasaki-sensei seems to be learning to read her well, too; on the days that she doesn’t have the energy to work through things, he usually senses it, and they quit early. He always suggests that she just head home, but usually, the easier and more interesting thing is to stay and study while he grades papers, or even just chat.

There’s something hilarious about how awful his sense of humor is, and being around him is strangely calming. He can dispel her anxieties about her grades with a single word; and seeing how much he genuinely enjoys his work makes her feel optimistic about finding something that suits her just as well too. Tutoring, she decides eventually, really isn’t so bad.

The only unfortunate thing about it, really, is that the “coffee” he drinks every afternoon always smells hideously burnt.

At home, Ayato watches as Touka practices strokes, and makes flash cards, and silently mouths out sentences. He always seems about to say something, and is usually stopped by Nii-san’s timely elbow. Nii-san can’t be around all the time, though, and one day Ayato sidles up to her with narrowed eyes.

“The cover of the book you’re reading,” he says. “It’s different than it was last week.”

“Yeah,” Touka says. “That’s because it’s a different book.”

“You gave up on the other one?”

“No. I finished it.”

“You finished it in a _week_?” His nose wrinkles. “Were you really reading it?”

“Yes,” Touka says sharply, and Ayato rolls his eyes.

“Who knew getting hung over would make you such a teacher’s pet.”

“If you don’t have anything interesting to say,” Touka snaps, “get out.”

“I’ve got a ton of interesting things to say! I even have a couple interesting questions. For example, why are the coffee cups on the front counter running out so fast?”

Touka feels her cheeks heat and Ayato folds his arms and tips his head back and glares down at her.

“You know that drinking two eight-ounce cups is the same as drinking a single sixteen-ounce cup, right? Maybe, instead of getting book tutoring, you should be studying math.” His voice lowers. “Or maybe you should, you know, stop letting that teacher have our coffee for free.”

“He tutors me for free,” Touka says, flatly. She squints down at her next flash card and writes out the next vocabulary word slowly. “It’s a fair trade.”

“Yeah. It’s a fair trade on _the days that he actually tutors you._ But you bring him a cup _every day._ ”

“The coffee he drank before was shit. You’d give him some every day too if you had class with him and had to smell how burned it is the moment he walks into the room.” She continues writing and when Ayato doesn’t move she looks up and glares.

“What? What else do you want? I’m busy.”

“All that tutoring,” Ayato snorts, “and you’re just as clueless as ever.”

He isn’t making sense. And she’s tired of being distracted. Touka makes a smile and starts clearing off the space beside her at the table.

“You know, Ayato, I have plenty of spare flash cards here. You want to make some for your own classes?”

“Hell no!” he snaps, and it works; he stalks off.

:::

_All that tutoring and you’re just as clueless as ever._

About what? Touka stares hard at the ground. Maybe it’s nothing; maybe he was just being irritating.

Still, people seem to be invested in talking with her about tutoring.

“It’s not so bad,” Touka has to admit, when Yoriko asks. “And it turns out me and Sensei are a little more similar than I thought.”

“Really?” Yoriko says, brows lifting. “How?”

Well, they both know what it’s like to be raised by people outside their father and mother. That was something she learned during one of their free-day chats.

“It turns out we have a pretty similar taste in books,” Touka tells Yoriko, carefully.

“Oh, really? You have book preferences now? What are they?”

“Um…ones that are a little dark, but also have a lot of interpersonal relationships.” Touka thinks a little, and continues. “It’s nice when there’s a lot of things to read into, too. Archetypes and cross-literary references and so on. Have you ever heard of Takatsuki Sen?”

When Yoriko shakes her head, Touka continues. “Takatsuki-san is favorite now, their stories are seriously unbelievable. There’s only one book of theirs I haven’t read, but Ayato keeps whining about how my next paycheck has to pay for the coffee I’ve been giving to Sensei, so it’ll probably be a while before I can get it. They’re really great books, though, and they’re Sensei’s favorite too.” She’s out of breath; Touka gulps it back and Yoriko laughs.

“It sounds like you’re really getting along,” she says, and Touka scratches her head.

“I guess. I mean. I guess he’s different than I thought he would be. He’s not like any of the teachers we’ve had before, he’s really patient. And I’ve been doing way better on those tests.”

“You have? Wait — Touka — you’re not failing anymore?”

“I’m not,” Touka confirms, and Yoriko’s face brightens. She grabs Touka’s shoulders and almost shakes them.

“Touka! That’s great! That’s really, really great! Does that mean you’ll be free on your birthday?”

Touka blinks at her in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh. Because…” Yoriko’s grip loosens; her hands droop down. “Well, your birthday’s on a day that you usually have tutoring. But if you’re doing well on your tests, you don’t need tutoring anymore, right? You can stop.”

Something in her chest jerks.

“N-no way,” Touka says quickly. “I’m not stopping it.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s — it’s really helpful. Sensei has a lot of insight. And he helps me a lot with vocabulary. Literature isn’t the sort of thing you just somehow ‘accomplish’ one day and then you’re just done, you know? Even if you come up with an interpretation in a book, you can always read a little deeper. And Sensei can go on and on about books sometimes, but when he talks, I feel like I can understand his thought process a little more, and…and what?” Touka asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you.” Yoriko covers her mouth and Touka grimaces.

“You are. And you’re smiling. What’s so funny? Yoriko, _what_?”

But no amount of wheedling can get Yoriko to say anything more than “It’s nothing. Sorry! It’s nothing.”

:::

Yoriko has a point about Touka’s birthday, though. Touka should probably should be spending it having some kind of typical fun. How does everyone else spend their birthday? Eating cake or something?

She’s anxious about what Sasaki-sensei will say about her wanting a day off, but when she tells him, he nods.

“Of course that’s fine,” he says. “You’ve been doing well recently, so it’s not a big deal. Though…hmm…”

 _Here it comes._ He tips his head in thought, and Touka tenses. She can practically hear his next words.

_Since you’re doing so well, why don’t we just stop tutoring altogether?_

“Would you mind stopping by for just a moment on that day? Not for very long. Maybe just on your way out.”

“O-oh,” Touka says. “Sure. Of course.”

The day of, she tells Yoriko to meet her at the restaurant they’ve decided at, and raps on the frame of the classroom they use for tutoring. Sasaki-sensei seems to have been waiting; he straightens and stands after he spots her.

“Sorry,” Touka says. “Am I late?”

“No, no. Not at all.” He lifts his bag from the ground and swings it over his shoulder, and rummages through it as he approaches. Touka peers curiously. There’s all sorts of papers and things in there, but mostly books. Now that he isn’t tutoring her, where is he headed next? Off to grade papers? Maybe to have a nice dinner somewhere? Touka’s brow furrows. Come to think of it…

She tries to get a good look at his left hand as it searches in his bag, and jumps when he suddenly lifts it out and extends it to her.

“Here you go,” he announces. “Happy birthday.”

He’s holding out a wrapped package. A — a birthday present.

“Oh,” Touka says. “Um — thanks.”

She reaches out and as she takes it, their fingers brush, slightly. Touka coughs.

“Should…should I open it now?”

“If you like,” he says, and Touka hesitates a moment longer, and then begins picking at a seam in the wrapping paper. The weight and shape by now is pretty familiar to her, but she’s still surprised when the author and title come into view.

 _”Dear Kafka,”_ she gasps.

“Your last Takatsuki Sen. Now we can be on the same page,” Sasaki-sensei tells her cheerfully, and Touka looks up and manages to see his smile for just an instant before she looks down and away again, fast.

“Thank you,” she manages, somehow, and Sasaki-sensei bows a little.

“Thanks for all your hard work,” he tells her. “And please enjoy your birthday.”


	3. Chapter 3

_"Hey, Aneki.”_

“Hey,” Touka replies. Ayato’s voice through the phone is unfamiliar and tinny. He never calls her, much less at night, and she straightens up from her book. ”What’s going on?”

_”Your teacher…uh…the annoying one.”_

“He’s not annoying.”

_“Yeah, that one. What was his name again?”_

Weird. And Ayato almost sounds like he’s out of breath. “His name is Sasaki-sensei. Uh, I mean…it’s…Sasaki Haise.”

Saying his first name feels…really strange. Touka rubs her cheek and is glad Ayato can’t see her.

_”Are you sure?”_

“Yeah,” Touka tells him, “of course I’m sure,” and Ayato sighs.

 _“Well,”_ he says. _”alright. Anyway. I know you don’t want to get wrapped up in all of this again, but I just want to let you know that if you don’t come over here and get your teacher, someone’s probably going to go and kill him.”_

:::

_Shit! SHIT!_

She doesn’t ask why — just hangs up, and pulls clothes out of the top of her laundry basket, and is already halfway out the cafe when she realizes she doesn’t have a coat and it’s raining like hell outside. She hesitates, and runs back a couple steps, and then makes a growl of frustration when she can’t find a raincoat or umbrella on one of the cafe’s coat hooks. She gives up and runs back toward and out the door.

There’s no time — not if Ayato is serious, and he doesn’t joke about stuff like this.

Ayato had told her the approximate address — square in the center of their old territory, a place clotted with gritty shops and pubs.

It is, in other words, the last place that she could ever imagine Sasaki-sensei being. Why? And how? And _what happened_?

She squints through the rain in panic, scanning the alleys for person-shaped shadows.

“Sensei!” she calls. “Sasaki-sensei!”

If he gets hurt — the thought of his face bruised or his dexterous fingers broken or his smile ripped even a little makes her blood boil. If he is hurt _at all_ —

She’s done with all of that, but if someone is at this moment beating poor, helpless Sasaki-sensei into the ground — well — maybe Arima could overlook one last incident.

She comes across the sound of brawling soon enough — bodies hitting brick and pavement — curses, snarls, gasps. There’s someone standing over a heap on the ground and raising their hand and Touka doesn’t think — she just grabs the outstretched arm, bends her waist, and flips their whole body over so they land with a wet, heavy smack on the cement. The person groans with pain and it’s only then that she realizes.

_“S-Sensei?”_

She looks with astonishment at the bodies that were already on the ground. If — if the one standing over them was _Sensei_ — then —

But Sasaki-sensei is already trying to get up again. His fingers scrabble on the ground; his knuckles are bloody. The other bodies are starting to shift around too, and Touka swallows, and is too focused on trying to identify them to see Sasaki-sensei lunging at her until it’s too late.

She freezes — tries to raise an arm to block him — but he’s too fast. Sensei’s fist sweeps out, just over her left ear, and there’s a choked noise. Touka whirls in time to see someone collapse to the ground.

 _Wow,_ she thinks.

And then she thinks, _Was that person even attacking?_

There are so many people fallen in this tiny alley now that getting out of here is going to require stepping on someone. This is getting ridiculous, and now there’s yet another shadow in the entrance, and this one has a familiar growl.

“Hey! Asshole! Get the hell away from my sister!”

Sasaki-sensei’s gaze slides. She’s seen him look over like this a hundred times before — but this time is totally different. He takes a deep breath and exhales and the reek of alcohol is so strong that she almost just feels drunk herself just by breathing. Touka grabs Sasaki-sensei’s elbow and holds it hard, preventing him from pulling it back.

“Sasaki-sensei,” she hisses. “Are you fucking serious? That’s my brother! Quit it!”

“Yeah!” Ayato says, rushing forward. “Hold him, Aneki!”

“Wh — _no_!” Touka steps between them, arms spread. Ayato stumbles to a halt, scowling. She backs up to make sure Sasaki-sensei won’t move past her, but the instant she feels the pressure of him against her, it falls away again. She looks back just in time to see Sasaki-sensei stumble against a wall and crush his head into it, groaning.

 _Whew._ It doesn’t look like he’s going to start back up for a while. Her head snaps back to Ayato.

“I can’t believe you lied to me about something like this,” she hisses. “This is pathetic. Is this what it looks like when you guys are about to kill somebody?”

She features furiously at the bodies littering the alleyway, and Ayato’s shoulders bunch together.

“Well, maybe we _would have_ if it hadn’t turned out that your book teacher is some kind of drunken berserker type. He just bust into our territory and started beating people up.”

Ayato bristles when Touka frowns.

“It’s _true_!”

“Whatever,” Touka grumbles. She supposes it isn’t too important. What Sasaki-sensei needs right now is a place to collapse that isn’t a filthy puddle.

She grabs his arm just as he starts to sway back again, and pulls hard, positioning his arm over her shoulder. He’s muddy and — and possibly bloody. Despite being drenched, his body feels warm. She swallows, and pushes his glasses back into place and tries to hitch him up as he stumbles.

“Sensei,” she mutters. “Come on. We should — get you home, probably. Especially before more backup comes.”

She looks to Ayato at the last comment, and Ayato huffs.

“Yeah,” he admits. “They’re coming. But it’s the usual formation, so you should be able to avoid it.”

“Thanks,” Touka says, with genuine gratefulness, and Ayato rubs his nose and sighs and starts shaking awake the people lying on the ground. As Touka makes her way out, she rambles on, trying to keep him awake and trying to focus now on something other than the passerby staring at them. They wander around to two different apartment complexes before she can correctly interpret his mumbled address, and as she looks up at the building, she has an eerie feeling like she’s been there before.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“Hey. Sensei is going to recover, okay?”

Yoriko puts a hand on her shoulder, and Touka makes a smile that she hopes is reassuring.

But Yoriko can see right through it. “Come on, Touka. You said it yourself, right? There are two people right there taking care of him.”

Touka makes herself take a breath.

 _I don’t care about them,_ she wants to snap. _Who cares about them? Who even knows if those two freaks are doing a good job of making sure he’s okay? As we sit here they’re probably staring at themselves in a mirror. And breaking it._

_Anyway, if they care about him at all, then where were they the night they got drunk? Who even are they? If they’re such good friends — or whatever — with Sensei, then why the hell hasn’t he ever mentioned them? Doesn’t that mean that they they aren’t important enough to mention?_

_Or —_

_Or is it that_ I’m _not important enough to —_

“Touka?” Yoriko calls, and Touka inhales, again.

“Yeah,” she says, weakly. “Sensei is going to be just fine. I just…feel…still upset about it. Sorry. I don’t know why.”

“Really?” Yoriko asks. “Do you really not know why?”

Touka glances over with brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Yoriko says. “Do you really not know why you might be stressed out about it? Sasaki-sensei is really kind to you, isn’t he?”

“He’s nice to everyone,” Touka says.

“But it’s you that he tutors. And you’ve been improving a lot, haven’t you? There was a time when you would have laughed and — and honestly, you probably would have beat someone up for suggesting Literature would be your favorite subject.”

“Maybe,” Touka says slowly.

“Furthermore, all your favorite books are Sasaki-sensei’s favorite books. You even wake up early to make him coffee, and that’s after staying up late reading.”

“It’s not like he’s forcing me into any of those things,” Touka argues. “I have a lot of fun doing them all on my own.”

“Right!” Yoriko nods, vigorously. “Right. Exactly. So…so given that…it’s not weird that you would feel especially anxious about Sensei, right? Or that…you might feel other things about him too?”

Touka frowns. “What are you trying to say?” she asks, but before Yoriko can answer, the bell rings. :::

_Sensei will be fine. Sensei will be okay. Sensei will get better._

Her education is a different matter. Takizawa-sensei doesn’t bother evaluating their progress at all and after Touka mentions this aloud in class, Takizawa-sensei coughs.

“Well, Kirishima-san, everyone has different methods. My style is a little more reliant on students paying a little more attention to —”

“Lecture,” Touka finishes. “Yeah. We get it.”

She leans back heavily and notes how Takizawa-sensei’s eye twitches.

“It’s a different method,” he insists, to which Touka replies, “Sure, Takizawa-sensei. It’s a pretty good one, too. I’d say, maybe the second-best method out there.”

It’s too easy. She isn’t even get mad when Principal Arima sighs and finally looks over at her from his desk after she spends five minutes swinging her legs idly.

“You were making so much progress,” he says, adjusting his glasses. Touka sighs and leans back. She prepares herself for the usual lecture about her future.

But it doesn’t come.

“Haise will be disappointed,” Arima says instead, and Touka stiffens.

“It’s — it’s not like I’m not reading anymore now that he’s not here,” she protests, a little more defensively than intended. “In fact, I’m reading more than ever, since Takizawa is so boring.”

Arima stares. Touka holds her ground, and after a while Arima begins looking through papers again.

“Boring or not, please stop being troublesome. Focus on your own progress. Personally, I’m glad to see that you’ve advanced to the point where you’re capable of improving without the presence of Haise.”

Touka blinks. Despite herself, she feels her face warm, a little.

“Th-thank you,” she manages. Arima’s compliments don’t come easy.

And at the time, it sounds like nothing more than a compliment. :::

As the days pass Literature, once again, becomes a huge pain. She smooths her hands over the covers of the books she has, and hastily decides on one when the bell rings, tucking the other away into her bag. She opens up to her bookmark and doesn’t bother looking up until she hears the sound of a clearing throat.

“Good morning, everyone.”

_Sasaki-sensei._

Touka’s heart jerks. She jumps, straightens in her seat, and claps the book shut. There’s a flurry of chatter — where was he — what happened — is he alright?

“I was just a little sick,” Sasaki-sensei says, smiling warmly and rubbing his face. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

But he looks even more exhausted than he was that night, and her delight at his return quickly fades to anxiousness. Once the bell rings, she stands, but can’t catch him before he gathers his things and heads off to his next class.

Well — well, that makes sense. He’s been out; he needs to make sure he catches up with all of his other students.

 _It makes sense,_ Touka tells herself firmly. _Don’t worry. I’ll see him soon._

Today is a tutoring day, after all — or well, it should be, now that he’s back. She says farewell to Yoriko early and goes to wait in the usual classroom, fingernails rapping the table.

It’s taking him forever.

Is this how it feels when she’s always late?

She paces a little, and then makes herself sit and read, and when she finally hears the door open, she finds herself immediately on her feet.

“S-Sensei!” she says. “U-um! Welcome back!”

Since when was she out of breath?

“Hello, Touka-chan,” Sasaki-sensei says. He smiles, a little belatedly, and shallow. Touka waits.

He doesn’t come in the classroom.

“Um…how are you feeling?” she asks, finally. “And don’t lie. You still look awful.”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Really. I had people taking good care of me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Touka says. “Those two old people, right?”

He laughs, lightly. “I guess to you they would seem really old,” he says. His smile fades away again in an instant. He looks up at the opposite wall.

The silence swells again.

This feels weird.

This feels really, really weird, and wrong. It was always easy to talk to him before. She starts toward him.

“Sensei,” Touka starts again, “I’ve been reading a lot since you were gone,” but the moment that she moves toward him, Sasaki-sensei steps back, out of the room.

“Sensei?” Touka calls uneasily.

“I heard that from Arima,” Sasaki-sensei says. His voice is flat. Rehearsed.

 _Something bad is going to happen._ Her mouth is dry.

“Sen —”

“I heard that from Principal Arima, I mean. That you’ve been continuing to read. I’m really glad to hear it.”

“Good,” Touka says quickly, “that’s great, because I’ve been waiting all this time to have discussions with you,” but Sasaki-sensei isn’t even looking at her, he doesn’t even seem to acknowledge what she’s said.

“I’m happy,” he says. “Because it means you’ll do just fine without these tutoring sessions.”

This whole day her heart has been moving about wildly, and now it’s completely stopped.

“Sensei,” Touka starts, but he is already turning away — he is already — _leaving_.

“ _Sensei!_ ” Her body moves on its own. She grabs him, and yanks him into the classroom, and shuts the door. Once he has regained his balance, she grips his arms.

“Is it because of that night? Because I don’t care about that — I mean — I know the whole thing was — um, unusual, I guess. But I don’t really care personally. So, if it’s about that —”

“No, no — it’s — it’s not that.” He tries to shake her off, but her grip just tightens.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” she says. “Not the details, anyway, just that I ran into you and you were in a lot of pain. And I promise I won’t say more than that. I don’t mind keeping it a secret.”

“That…um. That there are things at all between us that you have to keep a secret is — is a little —”

“I don’t mind! We can just pretend it didn’t happen at all if you want.” Her words are getting faster. “So, there’s no need to stop tutoring. Or maybe we can reduce it, if you think I’m doing better. But, it’s like you said, interpretations can always go deeper, and I really enjoy talking with you, there’s no one else that I can really talk with the same way I talk to you, so —”

“Touka-chan,” Sasaki-sensei says. “Stop.”

Her mouth shuts.

“Let go of me,” he continues, and Touka swallows, and sets her hands at her side, in fists.

“I’m really sorry for the trouble I gave you the other night,” he says, in a low voice. “But tutoring has nothing to do with that. The truth is, it will be impossible for me to continue tutoring you, because I’ve accepted a different job. I’ll be leaving here in two weeks.”

_What?_

Her astonishment must be obvious, because Sasaki-sensei’s face is full of pity.

“Sorry, Touka-chan,” he says. “I wish there was a better way to tell you. For what it’s worth, you’re a great student, and you’ll succeed no matter —”

“You can’t,” Touka bursts. “You _can’t!_ ”

He’s stunned.

“I, um,” he says, “I’m sorry, but I — I really have to,” and Touka resists the urge to shake him. Instead she rubs her chest, which is starting to hurt.

 _Calm down,_ she thinks.

“Is it at least close enough to visit?” she asks, strained, and he coughs.

“Ah…I’m afraid that isn’t an option.”

Is he serious? Is this another one of his horrible jokes? He isn’t smiling anymore. But this whole thing just doesn’t make sense.

“Sensei,” she says, as calmly as possible. “You can’t leave. You — you really changed the way I felt about things — you really helped me so much — you can’t just —”

“I’m nothing special,” Sasaki-sensei is saying. “You’ll have other teachers.”

“No, Sensei, it’s different with you, it has to be _you_ —”

“It doesn’t, Touka-chan. You’re smart. I have confidence you’ll continue to excel on your own.”

He isn’t listening, he isn’t _listening._

Not being able to see him again — or to share books again — not being able to discuss anything, or talk at _all_ —

No longer seeing his smile over a cup of coffee, or hearing one of his stupid jokes, or just sitting on desks together and working silently near by each other until the very last minute is used up —

“ _You can’t leave,_ ” Touka cries. “You can’t leave, Sensei, because — I —”

It comes out before she even really thinks about it. Before she’s able to stop it. She didn’t think she was capable of an emotion this powerful. Her head is throbbing. She feels like she’s about to explode.

“ _I love you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wwheeww that was a long one! thank you for reading! :)


End file.
